Ghosts
by Shyranae
Summary: A late night in the library turns into a strange stroll through ancient history.


_I'm jumping fandoms like they're going out of fashion at the moment. This is mostly because when I'm studying for exams I like to reward myself my watching an episode of something or other. Normally I try and watch shows that I've seen before because that way I won't be tempted to watch an entire season in one go. It doesn't often work, but at least I try. _

_I've got a huge pile of planned out multi-chapter stories with no time to finish them, so I'm stuck writing one-shots as they don't take too long. Maybe as holidays are starting I'll get some time to write a few of the longer stories and get them out of my head._

_Anyway, here it is. My take on Merlin meets Harry Potter._

Hermione started awake and looked around. She was disorientated for a moment, the room was nearly pitch-black, and she was slumped over a book. Hermione shook her head gently and rubbed her neck. The last thing she remembered was yawning while she pulled out the next book for her essay on Arthurian legends. It had been fascinating reading, but apparently she had been more tired than she realised.

Hermione pushed back the sleeve of her robe and glanced at her watch; she squeaked and leapt to her feet. It was nearly midnight. She was going to be in so much trouble if someone caught her. Hermione twisted her fingers and then grabbed her wand from her pocket. She had no choice; hopefully if she ran into someone it would be McGonagall or Flitwick and not Filtch, they wouldn't get her in too much trouble.

As she snuck quietly from the library, her path lit by her wand-light, Hermione wished quietly that she had Harry's invisibility cloak with her.

For the first few corridors Hermione encountered nothing, her confidence grew and the butterflies in her stomach settled. It was the middle of the night, hardly likely that even the teachers would be moving about the halls; even Filtch had to sleep sometime.

With that thought in her head Hermione turned the corner which would make this night the most magical of her life. Sitting cross legged on a window ledge just at the edge of her wand light was a boy. He looked a few years older than Hermione, dressed in brown trousers, a red shirt and blue neckerchief. His dark head was bent over an old book.

Hermione had frozen the instant she had seen him, but he hadn't seemed to notice her approach despite being lit by her wand. The boy frowned slightly at the page and then looked up into the darkness Hermione's wand-light didn't permeate. She saw his lips move, but heard nothing. He smiled in a satisfied sort of way and turned his attention back to the book. Hermione took a tentative step forward, raising her wand in an effort to see him better. As soon as the light fell on him fully he was gone.

Hermione spun around looking about for the strange boy desperately, but there was nothing to be seen, it was as though he had never even been there. Warily Hermione continued on her way, she really must be tired to be seeing visions of handsome boys in hallways.

She hovered indecisively at one of the tapestries which Harry had told her was a short cut to the Gryffindor tower. Sometimes the short cuts vanished when you most needed them and Hermione could never quite remember when they were all active, Harry was much better at that than her.

Finally she decided to take the longer route, better to be safe than sorry. She muffled a yawn with the back of her free hand and nearly turned it into a scream as she rounded the next corner. A few feet in front of her were three dead bodies. Two were dressed in poor quality brown clothes and the third was covered in a long red cloak. Their clothes and skin were covered with burns.

Hermione staggered back a step, the bodies drifting into the darkness, her hand over her mouth hoping no one had heard her cry of horror. She looked around quickly, terror making her heart race, movement in the shadows to her left made Hermione cringe back.

There were two people standing just in front of the nearest suit of armour. One was a tall blonde man; he had broad shoulders covered in a red cloak and he had his arms around a dark haired girl in a simple dress. She was smiling up at him with tears in her eyes and he was looking down at her with repressed longing on his face.

Hermione gasped softly, almost forgetting the horror of the three dead men in the face of these two's utter adoration for each other. Then the moment was gone and the boy who had been sitting on the window sill appeared from the darkness. The two sprung apart, guilt painted across their features.

The boy didn't seem to notice instead he waited until the other man pulled himself away from the girl and vanished into the darkness beyond where Hermione's wand spread its dim light. Hermione stepped forward and once again as the light fell fully on the figure in front of her the girl vanished, leaving Hermione with an impression of wistful longing and concern.

Hermione looked around, though she knew it was useless. Whoever these people were they were not real. They were images, though what they were of and who these people had been or were was a mystery. She looked around again, but there was no one in sight.

A quick glance at her watch showed her that it had just gone midnight. Hermione shivered, it was strange to think that she alone was awake in the huge castle and somehow these strange silent images were playing across her path.

Hermione shook herself, what was she thinking? She was standing in the middle of the corridor smiling vacantly to herself about a bunch of magical cinema reels. They could be part of the castle's warning system and there could be a teacher on their way to catch her out of bed.

Hermione leapt into action and scurried along; as she passed another corridor her wand spread light down the darkened path. Three people knelt in the darkness. One was the familiar dark haired young man from both the other visions.

Hermione wondered desperately who he was to appear so frequently in these strange manifestations. He had an old fashioned water-skin in his lap and a look of desolate sorrow on his face as he watched two women, one dark and one fair. The fair haired woman was crying and cradling the other in her arms as the dark haired woman gasp for breath.

As the faired haired woman lifted her head to glare at the young man, Hermione fled towards the upcoming staircase. She wished she knew what these images were, maybe in the morning she would go and asked Professor McGonagall, but she would have to be careful how to word her question. Hermione didn't want to get in trouble for being out so late at night.

Half way up the stairs Hermione's wand light illuminated another of the visions. This was one astounding; it spread out to the right of the stairs, balancing on thin air.

Despite the small circle of light the image was huge it seemed to Hermione as though she stood in a great hall. Men and women alike were gathered in what had to be their finest clothes, all turned towards two throne chairs set on a dais.

Standing in front of the larger of the two chairs was the blonde man she had seen before. He was dressed all in red with a crown on his head and he smiled down at the dark haired woman Hermione had seen him embracing. She was dressed in finery instead of a plain cotton dress and as Hermione watched the man placed a crown on her head and to the silent applause of the crowd assisted her to her feet and then to her seat at his side.

Automatically Hermione cast a look over the crowd, as with all the other visions the dark haired young man was there, standing just to the side next to an old man. He was applauding the couple on the thrones and grinning so widely that Hermione wondered that his face didn't split in half.

The scene was so full of hope that Hermione didn't want to move. Who were these people and why were these visions appearing in the dark and silent halls of Hogwarts?

Finally Hermione's arm began to ache and she lowered her wand, as the light withdrew so did the images. As Hermione turned to continue on her way up the stairs she missed a pair of bright cerulean eyes turning curiously in her direction, the faintest glimmer of gold glinted just as the last sliver of light disappeared around the corner.

Hermione approached the top of the stairs warily, she was expecting the image this time, but that didn't stop it from being astounding. She had a feeling that she should know what the images were of, but it was as though there was something keeping her mind from connecting the dots.

As she reached the top of the stairs and peered into the shadows where the images appeared she realised that she was once again in the grand hall she had just left.

The blonde man was once again on the dais, but this time he carried a sword in his hand. Hermione marvelled. The room was full of knights dressed in gleaming silver chainmail and bright red cloaks. Kneeling at the man's feet was one of the knights. For a brief moment Hermione thought that it was her familiar dark haired boy, but as she proceeded carefully around the edges of the image she realised that it was another boy. This boy was younger with pale blue, eager eyes.

Hermione realised he was being knighted and looked around; just to the left of the dais was her handsome dark haired stranger. He applauded the new knight with all the others, but there was something in his eyes that Hermione wondered at, though his face was alight with his smile there was a wariness that reminded her of Harry. Something troubled him.

As she stepped through image, breaking it up and scattering it to the darkness of the halls Hermione found herself wishing she could help him. She didn't know who he was, but she had realised by now that all the images were related to him in some way. What that way was, Hermione didn't know.

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. The corridor was wonderfully familiar, just a few more steps and the Fat Lady would come into view and she would be home free.

Her wand light bounced along the silent, sleeping paintings so quickly that Hermione almost didn't see him.

When she did, she gave a quiet shriek of surprise which she muffled unsuccessfully with her wand hand.

There he was, leaning against the wall next to the painting of the Fat Lady. The painted Lady was still asleep, apparently unaware of the stranger standing just next to her.

Hermione stared at him. He was older than he had been in any of the other visions. Not by a lot, but she could see the developed wisdom in his deep blue eyes. He was smiling a broad lop-sided smile that lit his entire face, and he was looking right at her.

Hermione shivered, this was powerful magic, far beyond her skill or comfort level. She took a slow step forwards, wand held out in front of her with its protective light shining forth.

His smile widened just as the brighter circle of light landed on him. He vanished.

Hermione swallowed and looked around, then glanced up at the Fat Lady. She would have to wake the painting to get inside. About to make a noise, Hermione stopped herself as her eyes fell on the edge of the frame which hung slightly open. Hermione reached out with trembling fingers and the opened easily.

She threw a nervous look around before ducking inside and ensuring the painting clicked home behind her. Hermione ran up the stairs, her heart beating a frantic tattoo against her ribs.

It had been a strange and magic night, though Hermione was never to be aware of just how magical.

* * *

The Library of Hogwarts was silent, the sort of silence which only occurs in the dead of night during the true witching hour. At a little table hidden in a little alcove between shelves that few people ever saw a ghost's ghost drifted across the floor, it's worn leather boots lifting the memory of dust from the stones.

A figure stoped at the desk, a book sat still open. _Ye History of Camelot. _A lop-sided grin creased a face that was not there. There was the faintest glimmer of gold, no more than light reflecting off a coin and the softest rustle as though a book had been gently closed.

Silence was again the master of the library.

* * *

_Hmmm...so...yes. This story basically sprung from me watching BBC's Merlin and wondering what would happen if Hogwarts had been built where the castle of Camelot had once stood. As for how it actually turned out. Well that's up to you._


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